


(Radiant in Her) Crown of Thorns

by Suzume



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Blood, Christian Imagery, Community: bloodyvalentine, F/F, Female Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Original Character Death(s), Religious Themes, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If all magical girls are martyrs sooner or later, Kyoko's planning on later.  ...It just turns out there's one person left worth spilling her blood for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Radiant in Her) Crown of Thorns

          There wasn't anything left of Katsue Yuka in that monster.  Nothing that could be reached by love or reason or even pain.  Hinata Eri said so.  And it wasn't like she was some kind of expert on magical girl life, but she had seen it happen before, in Yatsugawa, the town she came from.

         Kyoko had never needed many people, but since losing her family she had become even more of a loner.  She met with Yuka and Eri and Mami on occasion on the borders of Kasamino, but even if she could bring herself to like them, she didn't want to.  It would only hurt her further down the line (and probably the other girl as well).  ...And she'd thought that _before_ she knew that becoming a witch ranked so high within the possible outcomes of a magical girl's life.

         So she hadn't paid that much attention to Yuka or Eri.  They weren't as insistent on the "We should all be friends" thing as Mami was.  ...Because it turned out they weren't really in competition the way Kyoko assumed they all were.  They were classmates.  More than that too, apparently.

         Eri had asked for help in taking down the thing that Yuka had become and Kyoko had agreed since Eri offered right off the bat to let her have the Grief Seed left behind.  Maybe that should have been her tip-off that Eri wasn't planning on coming out the other end of this battle.

         "The witch Veronica," Eri whispered.

         How did she know something like that?  If a particular witch was brand-new, something you'd never encountered before, how could you know its name?

         A swaying arch of palm fronds- neon pink and green- greeted them upon their entry into the barrier.  There were colorful prayer flags blowing without a trace of wind and confetti falling down upon their path.  It made Kyoko wonder what kind of pain and imagery others would find if and when her own heart exploded just like Yuka's had- unfolded like a black rose, revealing a horrible world of despair.

         But being there- dying- hadn't saved Yuka.

 

 

         Ultimately, Kyoko thought, Eri and Yuka's parents must have understood.  Not about the witches or the contracts, but about the connection between their daughters.  People said it was a double suicide.

         Mami had some extra clothes in mourning black that she managed to make temporarily fit Kyoko (there was a lot of room in the chest).  It was hard to choke out the words of thanks, but Kyoko was glad that Mami came with her to the ceremony.  It was too hard to hear those old familiar words:

         _"I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die."_

         In front of Mami-senpai, she held it together.  Alone the next morning, she cried a bit.  But she strong enough not to lose herself.  She had to stay aware and alert at all times.  She didn't break down.

         Whether she completely believed those words or not (and whether she could even be one hundred percent sure one way or another), they had a lot of cachet.

         She didn't mean it in any kind of sacrilegious way, but ever since she'd made her contract, since she'd lost her family, there were a lot of things her father'd taught she thought she understood better.  Suffering, Kyoko thought, didn't make you a better person or anything.  But it did make you understand suffering better.

 

         Eri had been very beautiful when she suffered on Yuka's behalf.

 

 

 

         Well, she’d learned some stuff.

         No matter how selfish her wish, ultimately, a magical girl sacrificed herself for the sake of others.  Yeah, Kyoko thought, that made sense.  She could relate to that.

         So how many others?  Apparently it depended on the magical girl in question.  She could save as many as were within her power to save, or as few as she saw fit.  And saints, Kyoko had learned, were suckers.  Sure, she missed her mother, Momo, her misguided father- but she had, in a sense, given up her soul for them.  She wasn't going to let go of her life just like that.  She was young, she was powerful.  Right now, that was all she had.  She wasn't going to waste it.

         If God gave you the ability to prolong your life, that was what you were meant to do: live.

 

         And doing the things she needed to live was easier than she'd expected. 

         The wind whipped through her hair as she ran.  Her stealing started small at first, but quickly she learned it was better, easier, if she went for the big pay-outs, taking money instead of things.  That way she stole less frequently and from less people in the long run.

 

         There hadn't been a magical girl born who could save everyone.

 

         There wasn't anyone worth saving.

 

         Until, suddenly, there was.

 

         Stupid, beautiful Miki Sayaka.

         And for everything Kyoko knew about death and pain and ignorance and darkness, she couldn't deny what was buried deep in her heart, like a mustard seed, a grain of wheat, waiting for water- just a drop would do- to sprout again.

         Underneath the heart she'd hardened, out of pragmatism, out of need, Kyoko still believed.  In courage, in compassion, in self-sacrifice, in eternal life.  In love.

 

         She had a second mission now:

         Number one: keep living.

         Number two: Sayaka.

 

         Although, without school, without family, with a minimum of responsibilities to handle, Kyoko had plenty of time for introspection, she didn't explain that second duty to herself.  She didn't really want to.  She probably couldn't handle that.

         But one of the things involved in that duty was watching over Sayaka.  And, inevitably, watching her, when she put herself willingly into so much danger, evolved into protecting her.

         She fought by herself.  So when a witch with as many arms as an octopus had one more hand left with which to fight than Sayaka realized, it was up to Kyoko to emerge from her hiding place and fling herself between Sayaka and the string of shining projectiles that emerged from the witch's gold-striped arm.

         Stupid Sayaka.  Kyoko blocked the attack so well it took the caped, self-proclaimed bringer of justice a moment to even notice.  Sayaka slashed at the witch's previously well-protected core.  With half her appendages hacked away it was no wonder she couldn't defend herself so well anymore.

         The attack had thrown her balance off too far.  Kyoko slammed into the ground.

         "Oh my gosh," Sayaka gasped, staring at her.  Her blue eyes were wide, marked by emotion Kyoko couldn't pin down as well as she would've liked.

         "Heh," Kyoko laughed at her surprise.  She leaned on her spear, using it as leverage to rise to her feet.  The dying witch took one last swipe at her, but she parried it expertly, responding with a simple slashing attack to sever the arm at the elbow.

         The witch was all but helpless in the final stages of its death throes.  Sayaka's single-mindedness turned from her opponent to Kyoko, trying her best to look confident and untouchable with a line of spikes or thorns or something embedded in her head.  "That's right, Miki Sayaka," she thought, "I saved your cute, but sorry ass."

         Sayaka barely glanced at the shriveled up remains of the witch as they faded away, but she wasn't so distracted as to forget to scoop up the Grief Seed left behind.  "Kyoko," she said.

         "No 'hi, how are you?'"  Kyoko laughed.  ...But if it was so funny, then why did Sayaka look so worried?  She reached up to touch her head.  Apparently the injury she'd sustained was more severe than she'd originally thought.  Too hyped up on adrenaline and her own emotions to realize, she supposed.

         "I can heal myself, so," Sayaka ran, and in her hurry, stumbled, to Kyoko's side, "So," her breaths came fast and heavy, "Maybe I can heal you."

         "No."  Kyoko shook her head.  Even if Sayaka could, she wouldn't accept that sort of kindness.  She was losing a lot of blood, but it didn't hurt any amount worth mentioning.  When your soul was separate from your body, pain really was pretty much in your mind.  "I _like_ to bleed for you."

         But even if she didn't want to be healed, she was feeling a bit dizzy and Sayaka's open arms looked awfully inviting, so she gave into her weakness and slumped down against her.  The way the blood dripped off her forehead onto Sayaka's cheek, thin and spreading like paint, was sort of pretty.  The way the drops that fell onto Sayaka's arm coverings spread and darkened was nice too.  Dramatic.  Weighted.  Each drop was spent for a reason.

         "Couldn't I at least," Sayaka mumbled, struggling to juggle holding Kyoko upright without accidentally groping her, all the while reaching toward the projectiles still embedded in her forehead, "Pull these out?  There'll be more bleeding, I guess, but it'll have to hurt less."

         "Sheesh," Kyoko groaned, gingerly touching the sharp spikes, "What was she?  The 'home improvement witch?'   Are these nails?"

         "They're more like thorns," Sayaka answered, "They're not metal."

         "Ha ha, well, damn!" Kyoko chuckled, wiping a trail of blood away before it ran into the corner of her eye, "Looks like I'm wearing the crown of thorns, huh?  Well...what are you waiting for, Sayaka?  Strip me and whip me and let's get this over with."

         Kyoko's eyes were always red, which made it a little more difficult to tell, but right now they were also strangely glossy and dull.  She was feverish or something.  Sayaka stained her hands with more blood, trying to yank one spike out like she would handle a sliver- one swift move, as painless as possible- but before the offending object was free in her hands, it had disappeared, along with Kyoko's ruffled red costume and the last debris of the witch's barrier.

         In her ordinary personal clothing, her forehead marked by multiple puncture wounds, Kyoko was rendered closer to pathetic than heroic.  She was exhausted or half-fainted, but when Sayaka listened closely it sounded like she was breathing just fine.  Kyoko couldn't tell what was going on well enough to remember, could she?  Sayaka pressed the witch's Grief Seed up against Kyoko's Soul Gem, drawing out the wisps of smoke that had begun to thread their way through the crimson interior.  Satisfied that she had done what little there was to protect the soul of her comrade-in-arms, Sayaka let her own transformation fall away.

         Now to tend to Kyoko's body.  She would have to be more careful about blooding falling on her school uniform.  If there were too many stains, her mother would worry (and to avoid that she'd probably end up trying to scrub her clothes clean in a public restroom somewhere).

         She was strong enough to move Kyoko, but carrying a limp someone about the same size as you wasn't easy.

         It was a quiet night and Mitakihara was a safe enough city (as far as non-supernaturally motivated trouble was concerned) - at least Sayaka hoped.  She lay Kyoko down on the cool grass of the park.  She looked like Sleeping Beauty, but she didn't wake when Sayaka kissed her forehead.  The metallic flavor of blood mixed with Kyoko's hot sweat on her lips.  It tasted...good.  Better than she would have expected.  It was the taste of determination.  Of love, to the point of suffering bodily harm for the one she cared for most.

         Sayaka wished she had something- a jacket, a blanket- she could use to protect Kyoko from the elements for the duration of her supply-gathering mission, but all she had was a handkerchief.  It would have to do.  She laid it gently across Kyoko's forehead.  At least none of her wounds seemed too deep.  Her blood was drying, clotting, forming a dark, defensive pattern over the scratches.  If that generous blood seeped into her handkerchief, Sayaka resolved she would not wash it, but keep it.  It would be a love token, a relic.  Just saying you were a bad girl didn't stop you from being a saint.

         And a magical girl was always destined to be a martyr.

         Sayaka hurried across the street and breezed through Lawson's, mentally revising her rescue kit as she passed other items she thought might help her: gauze, bandaids, antibacterial gel, a bottle of water.  In her haste, she spilled half the contents of her coin purse across the counter and only picked a fraction of them back up.  She'd let the cashier keep the excess change.

 

         Despite Sayaka's speedy determination, Kyoko came to alone.  "Huh?" she reached up and pressed her hand onto the handkerchief, sliding it down over her eyes before recognizing the bit of delicate cloth for what it was.  She sat up and took the handkerchief in hand instead of letting it drop away into the grass.  "Sayaka?" she wondered, the whole reckless mess of sudden action coming back to her.  She was basically alone.  A single taxicab idled, waiting for the nearest streetlight to change.

         Kyoko appraised her physical state.  The injuries to her head throbbed a little.  They stung if she touched them.  Her throat felt dry.  But it was minor stuff.  She turned to her Soul Gem next.  It looked good.  Maybe better than it should have after that stunt.  She'd live.  After she took a moment or two to get her bearings, she would just get up and head back to her current hideout.

         The sound of school shoes slapping on the ground indicated that maybe she wasn't going to stay alone for long.

         "You're awake!" Sayaka called to her as she rushed along the crosswalk, over there sidewalk and grass and flung herself and a plastic grocery bag in her hand down to Kyoko's side.  She hesitated to act upon her urge to hug the other (wonderful, infuriating) girl.

         Kyoko held out the soiled handkerchief.  Sayaka settled for taking it back, allowing their fingers to touch.  "Sorry I didn't leave you a nice impression of my face on there," Kyoko filled the silence with an awkward quip.

         "Huh?"  Sayaka had no idea what Kyoko meant.  Was she delirious?

         "Forget it," Kyoko sighed.  Sayaka had grown up in a world embroidered by different history and legends.  "So, what's in the bag?  You bring me a snack as payback for all that?  'Cuz I could use it right about now."

         "Oh, uh, no.  Sorry.  I didn't think of that."  She'd been too worried to consider the flimsy flippancies of Kyoko's tastes.  "I brought water though," she fished it free from the bag, "So if you need a drink-"

         "Even better," Kyoko accepted.

         Sayaka held the handkerchief to her nose and breathed in the new scent attached to it- a fragment of what wonders she had tasted with that kiss.  She had been trying to work up the courage to kiss Kyoko on the lips when she got back.  That feeling of desperation- what's going to happen?  was she hurt too bad?  should we go to the hospital? - had fueled her.  If Kyoko had still been sleeping, her defiant in waking face calmed by unconsciousness, surrounded by a living halo of cold grass and her own warm blood, Sayaka was certain she would have done it.  With Kyoko better, awake, talking, glugging down water, she lost her nerve.

         "Hey," the redhead cut into her dull mess of worries and regrets, "You're okay, aren't you?  I mean, I was pretty sure that you were safe by the time I'd passed out, but...  It's good to make sure."

         "Uh, yeah.  I'm fine."  The darkness gathering at the poles of her Soul Gem said otherwise, but Sayaka was going to keep that to herself.

         Kyoko let out a snorting laugh.  "You like the smell of my blood and turmoil that much, huh?"

         "Wh-what?  Oh," Sayaka's expression shifted rapidly from confusion to irritation.  She hadn't realized she had continued pressing the handkerchief to her face for so long.  She shoved it belatedly into a pocket.  "I was just distracted.  Okay," she tried to shift the center of attention to the other items she had purchased, "I picked up some things to fix you up with."

         "Fine, doc," Kyoko relaxed her stiff posture, leaning her weight back onto her hands," Fix me up then."

         "What?" Sayaka still couldn't quite get past the flip attitude that Kyoko wore and wielded so frequently.  She usually preferred the company of more sincere, earnest types- Madoka, Hitomi, Kyosuke- but for some reason, the same aloof and rude acts that made Kyoko grating to be around also rendered her bizarrely endearing.  Maybe her harshness was only another form of sincerity.

         "You're the one who spends half her free time at a hospital," Kyoko countered.

         And that was reasonable.  Sayaka opened the tube of antibacterial gel and set to work.  Kyoko was docile, allowing her wounds to be touched.  They were just another bit of evidence that this horrible tradeoff- a slow suicide for the sake of power- was real.  How long, Sayaka wondered, had Kyoko been a magical girl?  How many unknown wounds (of the heart, of the soul, of the body) had she suffered up 'til now?  ...She'd probably tended to them alone.

         Sayaka wouldn't ask these things.  She didn't want to ruin the lovely moment they had built together.  Rather than exposing any of Kyoko's weakness, she let slip a glimmer of her own.  "Is it weird that I'm kind of... _moved_ by your shedding blood?"

         Kyoko's neutral expression twitched into a smile.  Funny someone'd be asking her that.  "No, not at all."

         "Oh, good."

         "I'm okay- more than okay, really- with doing that for you.  ...But next time I wouldn't mind either that if someone had to be hurt, you poured yours out for me."

         Sayaka felt the same.  "That's the way it should be.  It takes a lot of blows to stop me.  I heal fast.  I can bounce back."  It might not sit right to say that she felt like she deserved the suffering- to take that pain onto her self for the sake of others.

         "You're kind of a masochist, you know," Kyoko teased her with the truth.

         "Yeah, well, you can be a real sadist," Sayaka answered, sticking a piece of gauze to Kyoko's face with a pair of bandaids.

         "Anpanman?" Kyoko examined the box, "Why'd you get Anpanman bandaids?"  She couldn't help it.  A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep within.

         "I don't know.  I just grabbed the first kind I saw!"  Sayaka couldn't resist the lure of a sudden, _nice_ kind of laugh.  She joined in Kyoko's mirth.  It was a silly complaint amidst all this despair and suffering.

         "So I'm going to have to head home with these colorful things on my face?" Kyoko went on, "Now who's the sadist?!"


End file.
